Harry Potter and the fandom that refused to die
by Sanny12
Summary: Nineteen years had passed since Voldemort's defeat and all Harry Potter wished for was an ordinary life. However, there were these people that refused to grant him just that… Series of loosely related one-shots.
1. The fandom that refused to die

**Summary:** Nineteen years have passed since Harry Potter defeated Voldemort and all he wished for was an ordinary life. However, there were these people that refused to grant him just that…

 **Disclaimer:** Last time I checked I wasn't a millionaire. I guess that means Harry Potter still belongs to JK Rowling and not me.

* * *

 **Harry Potter and the fandom that refused to die**

Harry Potter considered himself to be as ordinary as one could possibly imagine. He was of average height, average build, maybe – at least according to his wife and _Witch Weekly_ –better looking than average. But not good enough for either women or men to turn their heads for him. He had an average income, did his job with a bit more than average skill, had three kids – he would proudly admit to the fact that these kids weren't average at all, although every now and then a bit more average there wouldn't hurt. Not that he was complaining. Still, all things considered, there wasn't anything too remarkable about him. _Except_ …

"Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Harry Potter?" a woman, probably in her late twenties, asked him.

"How do you know what Harry Potter looks like?" he asked before he could stop himself instantly regretting it as the woman replied.

"Well, of cause I mean you look like I always _imagined_ what Harry Potter would look like. I never quite thought Daniel Radcliff did him justice. Did you? Anyway, you look just like I think he would look today… if he were real that is. Although, theoretically we don't know for sure that he isn't, do we?" She smiled dreamily for a few seconds.

Harry only barely supressed an annoyed sigh. He should have known it was a bad idea to take the underground. But it still was the best way to get from the ministry to Dudley's apartment in central London and it was his cousins birthday. Even though it had always been a bit awkward – and had only gotten more awkward since Dudley had started dating Cho Chang, but that was a different story entirely – both cousins always made the effort to visit each other for their birthdays and around Christmas. However, chance encounters with Harry-Potter-Obsessed muggles like this one always struck Harry as being more than just a little creepy. And unfortunately, they were always a risk when he decided to make a trip into Muggle-London. Or any other muggle-area. Once, his sons had played a trick on him that they'd considered to be especially funny. On a holiday to the USA they had practically dragged their clueless parents into a muggle theme park, that had turned out to be a Harry-Potter-Theme-Park. Harry still cringed at the memory.

The woman interrupted his train of thought. Obviously still caught in the possibility of Harry Potter being real.

"Although I think he probably wouldn't be wearing stumble but that's just my opinion. What did you think about the new _Fantastic Beasts_ movie? Isn't it just great to go back to the magical world? I was so excited, when I heard they were going to make _five_ movies."

This new movie series was just another thorn in his flesh. He had had the feeling that fan obsession with Harry Potter had begun to ebb down. But the new movie series and that play had had the same effect as oil on fire.

"I've actually never been that much of a fan," Harry managed to sound politely disinterested, "I guess I've always been too much of a realist."

"But you know the basic story, don't you?" she asked sounding almost accusing.

"Yes, yes sure I do," Harry reassured her hastily, afraid that otherwise she'd start to summarize his own life for him. Or rather the dramatized novel version.

"Good," she said with relief, "I don't get people who don't know the last thing about it. I think it surely has become part of our cultural inheritance, don't you think."

"It sure has," Harry replied unable to ban the slight annoyance that crept into his voice.

She remained oblivious and went on, "I am getting married in a couple of weeks, and guess what our wedding theme is?"

 _She can't possibly be serious, can she?_

"That's right, it's Harry-Potter-Themed. We asked our guests to wear robes instead of suits and dresses and our menu has the most amazing choice of food… our guests will have butterbeer, fire whisky, pumpkin juice for the kids, a friend of mine made chocolate frogs and chocolate frog cards for our candy bar. It's just going to be _amazing_."

"Yes, getting married is a big step," Harry replied desperately trying to get her to change the topic.

"Oh yes, but we've been living together for years now, so it's not that big a deal. But just imagine, I am going to feel like I'm in Hogwarts for an entire day!"

People, who clearly had been listening to their conversation, were looking at them. Some smiled sympathetically at Harry but most were just amused at this woman's obsession and some snickered without even trying to hide it. Harry didn't ask if they'd also have a chamber of secrets themed photo-booth or the obligatory giant spider attack that the real Hogwarts-Experience would require. He almost sighed with relief as he realized he had to get off the train at the next stop.

"That's me," he said, "err…nice meeting you and have a nice wedding." His eyes widened in horror as the woman stood up and went to the door with him. "That's funny, we're getting off at the same stop," she said happily, "would you mind taking a selfie with me, once we're out of the train station? I don't meet people that look like Harry Potter on a daily basis, as you probably can guess. Although, I once saw a couple that – and I'm not making this up – looked exactly like Ron and Hermione. I shouted after them, but they didn't stop. Probably didn't hear me. So, what do you think about the selfie?"

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," Harry replied.

He almost started to run as soon as the train doors opened. Unfortunately, the woman was faster than he would have thought, and she hurried up the escalator right behind him.

"That's really a shame," she said and Harry smirked when he realised it was becoming harder for her to speak. Maybe, if he kept up his speed, she'd finally just shut up. It wasn't very far from the underground station to Dudley's apartment which was a plus as well. In a few minutes, he'd get rid of her anyway.

"Do you like fanfiction?" she started as soon as they were on the street.

To Harry's disliking her voice sounded almost normal again.

"No," he said and the finality in his voice would have send the new recruits in the aurors department running. She completely missed it – or just chose to ignore it. Harry sped up again when he saw Dudley's building getting closer. _Almost there_.

"Hey, we're heading towards the same building," she said behind him.

 _Not possible_.

"You don't live here, do you?"

"No, just visiting."

"Who?" She asked, as she unlocked the door.

"My cousin," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Harry Potter also had a cousin," she mused, "do you get along well?"

Harry didn't answer. He headed for the lift and she followed him. His horror grew as she hit the button for the tenth floor, the same that Dudley lived in. _Please don't let her be invited, please Merlin. I promise I'll donate to St. Mungo's or something._

"He wasn't a very likeable character in the book series but they sort of reconciled in the last novel."

The lift came to a stop and Harry practically pushed her aside to get off as quickly as possible. As soon as he reached Dudley's door he pushed the doorbell button several times willing his cousin to _open_ _the bloody door._ The woman had come to a stop behind him.

"Nice meeting you. You sure you don't have time for a selfie now?"

Dudley opening the door saved him the answer.

"Harry," his cousin said and a genuine smile lightened his face, "come on in."

Harry risked a last glance across his shoulder.

"You know," the woman said now addressing Dudley, "you do look a lot like Dudley Dursley."

Dudley frowned. "Well, yeah. Might be because I _am_ Dudley Dursley," he replied motioning towards the door sign.

The last thing Harry saw of her before the door eventually closed were her eyes that had grown to the size of saucers.

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AN: It's been a while since I've last been an active participant in the world of fanfiction. So please excuse if I've gotten a bit rusty. However, I recently rediscovered my passion. I am a Die-Hard-Potter-Fan, so there are only slight hints of self-mockery here.

Thanks for reading. If this made you smile return the favour and write a comment. If it didn't, write a comment as well to make sure my next story does. Also, I'm not a native speaker of English, so feel free to comment on the language as well, if necessary.


	2. The discovery of fame

**Disclaimer** : Last time I checked I wasn't a millionaire. So, I guess Harry Potter still doesn't belong to me. The quote from _Philosopher's Stone_ of cause also belongs to the one and only J.K. Rowling.

 **Summary:** When Petunia and Vernon Dursley run late to pick their nephew up from the school train, they discover that leaving a teenager alone on the train station may have unpleasant consequences…

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 **Harry Potter and the discovery of fame**

 **July 1997**

Petunia Dursley sat next to her husband in the car that was slowly making its way through London traffic. Her lips were pursed and she kept glancing at her watch.

"We are late," she informed her husband and allowed an edge to creep into her voice.

"So?" Vernon replied.

"We were supposed to be there at 5 o'clock sharp."

"I know," he replied, "but we are just picking the boy up. No one will care, if we are late."

"People might think, that we're not taking proper care of him, if he's seen wandering about the train station all by himself," she replied.

Vernon dismissed the point by snorting in disbelief. It couldn't have been more obvious, that he thought that she was acting ridiculous. She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together. _Well_ , she thought, _we'll see who's right in the end when all the other families start looking at us strangely because the police have to deliver him home or something like this._

They arrived at King's Cross about twenty minutes too late. And then there wasn't a parking space.

"Go and find him," Vernon said, "I'll wait in the car."

Petunia hurried into the train station and towards platforms nine and ten where her nephew would usually show up. He wasn't there. Had the police picked him up already? He usually looked rather suspicious when he returned from school with that giant trunk and _owl cage_... She turned around and hurried back into the entrance area. She sighed with relief, when she recognised him standing in front of a book store. He was only carrying a backpack and the cage with his owl.

"Harry! There you are," she said, as soon as she'd reached him. "We need to hurry, Vernon's waiting for us in the car."

Harry didn't say anything in response, he just followed her wordlessly through the train station. Vernon impatiently used the horn as soon as he saw them coming.

"What took so long?" Vernon asked as soon as Petunia opened the door to get into her seat.

"I didn't immediately find him," she replied.

She wanted to turn to her nephew, who had slid into the backseat. He had his eyes closed and earphones over his ears, clearly unwilling to talk so Petunia turned away from him. She crossed her arms again and pursed her lips.

"Not even _thanks for picking me up_ ," Vernon mumbled next to her. She had to agree silently. Harry was indeed being unusually impolite.

Upon arrival in Privet Drive Harry practically jumped out of the car and raced up the stairs before Petunia had the chance to finally properly welcome him. Harry had never been as responsive to physical attention as Dudley, but she had indeed expected an awkward-teenage-boy-hug or a peck on the cheek once they'd arrived home. Something clearly bothered him. Or he was just angry at them for being late. With Harry's moods, it was often difficult to tell whether they were a result of actual worries or just ordinary teenager mood-swings.

"What's wrong with him?" Vernon asked. He seemed to realise just now that something was off.

"I don't know," she snapped getting increasingly annoyed, "maybe he _does_ care about the fact that we were late!"

Vernon looked doubtful.

"I'll go and finish the lasagne for tonight," Petunia sighed, "it's his favourite, so maybe that will cool his mood."

About ten minutes later Petunia heard the front door opening.

"Mum, Dad, are you back? Is Harry here?" Dudley sounded excited.

Before Petunia had the chance to answer, the creaking of Harrys door and Harrys voice were audible.

"I'm upstairs, hurry up, I need to show you something!" Now he sounded more like the darling he was most of the time and Petunia smiled towards herself. If he was just angry at them for being late he would probably have forgotten by the time dinner was ready.

However, when the boys sat down at the dinner table Harry's face was grim again. And so was Dudley's.

"So, Harry," Petunia said as they started to eat, "you seemed so tired in the car, so I haven't really had the chance to ask you how school has been since we last saw you for Christmas."

"Fine," Harry replied gruffly.

Petunia sighed, "look, Darling, if you're angry at us for being late, we are sorry." She kicked her husband under the table.

"Yes, yes sorry. Very much."

"I'm not angry you were late," Harry replied, "although that gets us straight to the point, because you being late gave me time to have a look around W.H. Smith…" And all of a sudden, he threw a novel in the middle of the table. It was titled _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone_. Petunia swallowed. She had forgotten to tell him.

"I found it in the book store when I was waiting for you. Care to explain, how a book that seems to deal with my first year at Hogwarts ended up being published, by the publishing house _you_ work for?"

"Aha," Vernon said next to her, "and you thought his bad mood was my fault. I told you this wasn't a good idea." He sounded very pleased with himself and happily went back to his lasagne.

"You were as much part of it as I was," Petunia snapped, "may I remind you, that you added all that stuff about dramatic effects and how we could make sure it's going to sell well?"

Vernon had the decency to look ashamed.

"Still waiting for an explanation here," Harry said.

"Well," Petunia said, "it started a while ago. Remember how you told us about your first year at school?"

"Yes."

"And how we said, it would make a great tale for children?"

"Yes."

"Well… there was this nice young lady. Very talented writer. But somehow, she couldn't quite turn her ideas into a coherent story. So, I thought I'd help her out…"

"By telling her my story?"

"It's not exactly your story, darling. You might realise we altered a few details. Anyway, I didn't just tell her your story."

"What did you do then."

"Well…" she hesitated.

"Aunt Petunia…"

"Well, I asked Remus for help." Harry and Dudley groaned in disbelief.

"Why would you do that?" Dudley asked, "whenever you and Remus decide to work together it ends in a catastrophe. And it's never discrete."

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," all three men replied at the same time.

"Remember Harry's seventh birthday?" Dudley added.

Everyone cringed at the memory.

"So, what did you convince Remus to do?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Well, we sort of charmed the idea into her head."

"But… that's dangerous and highly illegal."

"Yes, that's why Remus didn't like the idea in the first place. But you see, she was just such a lovely woman and I just wanted to help her."

"By turning Remus into a criminal?"

"Well… If you put it that way, it doesn't sound like such a good idea…" she admitted quietly.

"And you?" Harry asked his uncle, "what did you have to do with all of that?"

"I added a few dramatic effects," Vernon replied, smiling.

"Like?"

"Well you know, if you have children's stories about orphans they just ought to have horrible foster parents. And an arch enemy at school, and at least one teacher that's unfair and mean… and someone evil lurking in the shadows…" He beamed with pride as he recalled all the brilliant ideas he added to the story.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "This family is just insane."

"Really? I always thought we were quite ordinary…" Vernon said.

"Yes," Harry replied sarcastically, "like this novel says _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."_ He snorted, "perfect description of you indeed."

"What's not normal about us?" Vernon demanded obviously utterly confused.

Harry groaned once more, than he asked: "So this woman wrote the novel loosely based on my first year at school. But that's it, right?"

Vernon and Petunia glanced at each other.

" _Right_?"

"Well, you know… When we planted this idea about Hogwarts in her head, she knew that there would be seven school years, so she is planning to turn it into a seven-novel series."

"What!?"

"That really wasn't our intention. It was just… Your uncle, and Remus and I, we were so proud of you after your first year at school. You were so brave and the story was adorable and exciting. We just wanted everyone to know what a great boy you are. And we didn't think she'd want to turn it into a whole series."

For a few seconds, Harry looked flattered. Than he remembered what he had been told before. "So, this woman, who thinks I'm a fiction, is going to write seven novels about my time at Hogwarts?"

"Well, yes."

"But she only knows what happened in first year."

"Well… Remus and I thought we couldn't abandon her, after we started this thing."

Harry seemed to have heard enough and got up shaking his head in desperation.

"Where are you going, darling?" Petunia asked worried.

"I'm moving into the cupboard under the stairs."

Before he left the dining room he stopped and turned to face them again. "And why on earth," he demanded "didn't you have the decency to _at least_ change all our names?"

Petunia heard him opening the cupboard door.

"He's never going to fit in there," Vernon said, "and it's full with useless stuff. Should I give him a hand clearing it out?"

Petunia sighed.

"I'm going upstairs," Dudley announced. He seemed almost as angry as Harry.

"And what are you angry about?" she asked him.

"Simple," Dudley replied, "I get that it sells to turn Harry into a super-wizard. But why did you have to make me a fat idiot?"

* * *

 **AN:** I just couldn't resist to add this (plus someone asked how the story got published in the first place – so here's my explanation to that). Hope you liked it. I had fun writing it anyway. I'd be glad if you leave a comment to tell me what you think! This is my first real advance into the humorous fields of writing so it would be extremely helpful to know what people are thinking.

Thanks again to everyone who commented on the first OS!


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